Cracks In My Spirit
by Discreet Indiscretions
Summary: Fic about the new Killers song "Just Another Girl". In they're hearts they knew, it was inevitable. Couples can break up however strong their bond was. A story about heart breaks, denials and making choices. AU
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Thought about writing this when I saw the new Killers video. Epic song that it is, I couldn't ignore that Dianna Agron was stepping in for Brandon Flowers. Just had to write a fic about it.**

**Glee will never be mine and The Killers for that matter.**

**Prologue**

I open my eyes, it's far too bright outside. Funny I don't remember opening up the curtains, not last night anyway. Those stars just remind me of her, all of their brightness and sparkles just remind me of her. Does it really matter though when everything seems to be a reminder of her? I close my eyes for a few seconds and damn there she is again. I choose to stare at the ceiling, it's one of those popcorn ceilings from the 70's – was that what they called them? Our old apartment in New York had similar ones. I miss that apartment. It was rotten and small, the heater never worked but it was okay because we would cuddle up close to each other and we knew we would make it through the night.

My eyes begin to well with tears again, so I close them up shut willing myself to get control over my emotions. No more crying, I don't want to cry.

I hear a faint sound coming from the hallway, pulling me out of my reverie. I disregard it but moments later the sounds become louder and it's no longer easy to ignore. Maybe I should get up, but my body refuses, its weak and hungry from days of disuse. I try anyway, to get up and investigate the offending noise. I move slowly and paddle my sore limbs through the hallway. I reach the kitchen and catch Santana rummaging the contents of the refrigerator. Pointless, I barely packed anything much less grab something for consumption. She shuts the door and huff in disappointment, turning instead to investigate the contents of the pantry. She grunts this time. Like I said earlier, pointless.

She notices me finally; a little astonished to find me standing in the hallway. She opens her mouth, about to say something but she points to the kitchen table instead. I find two cups of coffee and my mouth begins to water. I pull the chair and sit. My hands find one of the drinks and cup it. I didn't realize how cold I was, that my body has been shivering. My body welcomes the small contact of heat emanating from the cup. I take a small sip and feel the warmth quell my thirst and appease my shivers.

It takes a moment before I decide to say something. I know she's waiting for me to. There are many things that I want to ask like "How is she doing?", "Have you see her?" None of those came out. I wasn't ready. I hold my breath, unsure of how to proceed. I could talk about the weather – not gonna work. Not with Santana anyway.

I settle for "How did you find me?"

She takes careful footsteps towards the table, handing me a plate of food. Hmmm bacon and eggs, thoughtful, I surmise. She takes a bite of her own food before mumbling out "Do you really care?"

I shake my head, "No, not really."

"What happened Q?"

I stand up and head for the coffee table adjacent to the kitchen. I rustle for a lighter and later find my cigarettes. I turn it in between my fingers before lighting it and coming back to the kitchen.

I inhale and let the smoke linger in my lungs before I blow it out. "We broke up."

Santana drums her fingers against the table, looks up to me almost disbelievingly before replying, "Shit, I thought you guys just fought. I didn't… I'm sorry Q."

I notice her try to hide her surprise and I pretend not to see it. I grip my coffee and finish off whatever was left. It was cold now but I gulp it anyway. I chuck my finished cigarette and she grimaces at my actions.

Sensing my non-chalantness she changes the subject.

"Nice place you've got here." She offers while surveying the apartment. It was a mess, much like me, with bottles of alcohol carelessly thrown around, ashtray full of cigarette butts. I chuckle at her statement. Her attempts at humor always make me smile.

"She just another girl Q, don't let it stick to your heart so hard."

I look down, why she can't just let me enjoy this moment, I don't know. Pain settles uncomfortably in my chest, it leaves me feeling nauseous, it's tightening.

"That's just the thing; she's been stuck there for a long time now. I can't just peel if off." I barely choke out the reply.

"You're going to have to. Please tell you're not coming back to her. She broke your heart." I can see anger building up in her. I've only ever seen her like this when it involved Brittany.

I close my eyes again, trying to stop myself from falling apart. I see her eyes again. Those brown sad eyes, I've come accustomed to these past few months.

It was the final straw. I hug myself as I prepare for my inevitable break down. I see Santana enter my line of vision a few seconds after, she's wearing a sad smile but I can't make it out. My eyes are too blurry from all the tears. She stands me up and lead me to the sofa; one hand stabling me as my foot steps falter and the other wiping my tears.

It's the feel of her gentle fingers wiping my tears that make me realize even more the mistakes I've made and just how fucked up my choices have been. How I know, deep in my bones, that I did this to myself.

"I messed up, San" I gasp through my tears.

"Don't do this Q, Don't take all the blame. She broke your heart." She runs her fingers on my wet cheeks and kneels in front of me. Somehow she manages to wrap her arms around me.

"She broke my heart, but I know I've been breaking hers too."

**So that's the prologue, I've already written the next chapter and just doing some editing. Not quite sure how long this fic would be so let me know what you guys think.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's the next chapter. I hope you guys like it.**

**I do not own Glee or Grey's Anatomy**

**Three weeks before the break-up.**

I gobble up the remains of my BLT while I skim through the chart of the next patient we are about to see. The hospital cafeteria rivals Best Buy during Black Friday by the amount of people hanging out in there this time of day. I found myself during lunchtime in a quiet corner behind the lobby. No table or chairs, no problem. I've dealt with worse circumstances.

Bobby Feldman, thirteen years old, male, recurring cancer with a malignant tumor in his brain. I look through his CAT scans and try to determine the location of the tumor. I squint my eyes and look closer. It usually doesn't take me this long to pin point tumors in a scan. Moving my head a few inches farther I notice the outlines of the tumor. It was big, much larger than the ones I've seen before. It's no wonder I was having a hard time locating it. Poor boy, I think to myself, only thirteen and having to deal with cancer, but I'll be dammed if I'm not in that operating room when they open him up.

It's the last few weeks of my second year residency here at Mt. Sinai in the heart of Manhattan. I have my eyes set on neurosurgery but even now it's too early to tell what I'll end up pursuing in a couple of years. Sometimes I still wonder why and how I landed a residency in one of the top hospitals in the world. I mentioned this to Rachel a few days after I received the news of my acceptance. I brought up how I felt undeserving of the position and that there would be someone out there better suited and prepared for the spot as we strolled hand in hand casually at Central Park. She swatted my hand and told me to shush.

"Quinn, I refuse to listen to this non-sense. May I relay my observations from these past few years?"

I chuckle at her and nod my head, urging her to continue. Unlike before she would just ramble on and on about everything and anything, these days I find her asking for permission. She says others find her less annoying and less bossy when she does this. I really didn't mind. I could listen to her for days and I wouldn't mind. It was welcome and sought.

She pauses our leisurely gait and turns to face me, holding our hands in between our bodies and looks up, only speaking once she catches my eyes."You Quinn, my love, my heart, are very much deserving of this. Need I remind you that not only did you graduate from Yale one year early, I like to think you did so to be near me." She smiles to herself and then continues her dialogue. "but also finished med school at NYU at the top of your class. All that before you turned 23." she says as a matter of fact.

"Baby, I'm so proud of you. So so proud, I haven't come across another person who's as dedicated and hardworking as you are." I break eye contact, looking away for a moment, bashful of the blush that I could feel reddening in my cheeks. She palms my face, gently turning my head and once again my vision is flooded with her beautiful brown eyes.

"I know there's no one else out there more deserving of this than you. I feel so lucky that you chose me to share this life with you. You're sweet. You're kind and loyal and .."

"and badass." I cut her off and make her giggle. "And badass." she repeats, placing a gentle peck on my lips before crooking her head against my chest. I envelope my arms around her, we stayed like that for a minute or two. Rachel's always had a way of soothing my insecurities. It's one of the plethoras of reasons why I feel so much for her. She makes me feel content, secure and loved.

"I love you Rach, thank you. You make me so happy." whispering the words to her ear.

"I love you too, Quinn." she replies before she unravels herself from mine. "I best not hear anymore of this self doubt coming for you."

"I can't promise that." she frowns but I reassure her. "But I can promise that if I ever feel this way about anything I'll tell you."

"That's all I ask. Now come on, I don't like how pouty Brittany gets when we're late, never mind how terrifyingly scary Santana becomes around that." she tugs my hand and we walk a few more blocks towards our destination.

I feel someone plopping themselves beside me and gave them a glare. Figures, it was Santana, leave it to her to put a stop to my blissful reveries. Santana crosses her legs and copies my position against the wall. When we first started our residencies I had no idea that I would spend the impending years with her as a fellow resident. She had decided on attending med school at UCLA so she could be near Brittany and when we applied for our residencies we never thought we would taking them in the same city, much less, in the same hospital. I am very much grateful for it though. I missed her; she's my best friend after all.

She reaches across to my other side, takes my potato chips and the chart I was reading earlier. Maybe now, I don't miss her much. My mouth gapes at her temerity but it fades away because really, that's Santana, what I found annoying once, I've come to love now.

"I swear S, doesn't B feed you or something and give me the chart back." She reciprocates the glare I gave her beforehand and I raise one of my eyebrows. I push her with my shoulder as I struggle with myself not to smile. It reminds me of the times we practiced that glare into perfection in front of my bathroom mirror while Brittany played with my long forgotten Barbie's.

She turns the chart page after page. "I should have known that you've been stealing these charts from the nurses' station." She grumbles, with a handful of chips in her mouth. "Bitch, I knew there was no way you get to have more operating room time than me." I give her an apologetic look because I did want to share this information with her but my ass is on the line if Dr. Shepherd found out I had this advantage over everyone else.

"What you do? Is that why that one nurse with the red hair has been giving you googly eyes? What are you gonna do when ginger finds out about your girlfriend." she halts her tirade to get a good look at me. "Does Berry even know?"

"Her name is Chrissy. Yes, Rachel knows. I told her and she's not too keen with the idea but she said she trusts me and that getting a upper hand is only to be expected." she wrinkles her forehead and shifts her gaze back to the chart.

"Shit Q, this tumor's gigantic. How's Shepherd gonna manage to take this out? I better get in on this. B's gonna freak when she finds out that I got to see someone cut someone's brain out. Well, maybe not, but she will when I tell her I got to help someone's life…" I let her ramble on like white noise.

Instead, I turn my attention to a text I received from Rachel several hours ago. I meant to respond when I was available.

**Rachel:** What time should I be expecting you tonight? Eleven? Midnight? Maybe a little after?

I contemplate what time I'd be coming home tonight. I'm only half-way through our 16 hour day and I'd really like to be part of the team at Bobby's surgery. That surgery might keep me here for a few more hours than intended.

I text her back.

**Quinn:** Hi babe, I'm not sure what time I'll be back but count on a little after midnight. There's this surgery I want to get in to.

I feel guilty for working so much. My head reels at the thought; I've been smothered with the work load here at the hospital and regardless of the efforts we make to see each other more often, it gets interrupted with a sound of a beep. She says she understands but I know that it's taking a toll in our relationship. I can't recall the last time we had a meal together. It must have been weeks ago. I cringe at the thought.

I feel my hand vibrate. She texted me back.

**Rachel:** Oh okay. I thought you said that you'd try to get out early today?

**Quinn:** I'm sorry babe. I'll try.

The last few nights I've been going home so late that the only words I hear from her were occasional sleep talk. Not to mention that I missed her opening night for an off-broadway show. It's her third time at the stage but this time her talent was recognized and she was able to lead the musical. I saw her the next night and she was amazing as always. Her grace and talent never fail to astound me and send me to a staggering sob. We had a romantic dinner after at a restaurant I've been dying to take her. We made sweet love that night. That was the last time too. Disappointment and guilt hover over me like a black cloak.

I shake the thought off because I'll be making it up to her next weekend when I take a much needed break from all the hospital work and she takes a recess from her musical. It's only for a few days but we'll take whatever amount of time is granted to us.

My beeper beeps and it's my cue to come back to work. I gather all my belongings before hauling myself up. Santana hands me the chart as she sips the remains of my iced tea. She's still sitting down on the ground but I have to hurry and bring back that chart that I "borrowed". I make a run for it pausing briefly to make sure Santana's on her way too.

I'm busy washing my hands when Dr. Shepherd pats my back and congratulates me on my work.

"Great job in there Fabray, I see promise in you. Although I think Lopez is going to give you a run for your money." he flashes me his million dollar smile at me and we turn our heads towards Santana who was currently berating one of the other residents for God knows what.

"I should thank you for the opportunity. I appreciate all the times I am able to work beside you doctor." I reply and he just smiles at me again before leaving the room.

My feet lead me to the locker room. I barely feel them moving. I didn't realize how exhausted I have been.

"Hey Fabray! Yo Quinn!" Nate, one of the other residents, who mildly reminds of Puck is sprinting towards my direction. I stop at my tracks and wait for him. He's clearly out of breathe.

"You have to stop by Joe's after. We gotta celebrate. You kicked ass today." He pleads.

"I can't Nate, I have someone waiting home and I'm so tired. Plus we have an early morning tomorrow." I glance at my watch. It's nearing one am and I'm just only leaving work.

"Please c'mon Fabray, you never come out with us. I'll buy you a drink." He pleads again. I take a careful look at him, trying to find an ulterior motive. I saw none.

"Okay, I'll go but just one drink and one hour tops." I agree and we arrange to meet at the bar with the other residents. I'll only be away for an hour and Rachel's probably already sleeping anyway. I assumed since she never replied to my last text. One drink and one hour wouldn't hurt. At least that's what I thought.

Three drinks, two shots and two and a half hours later I find myself having an argument with Nate. He keeps insisting that Red Hot Chili Peppers and Linkin Park will only be the two bands that will define our generation.

"What about The Killers, Matchbox 20, Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Third Eye Blind. One of them is bound to represent us? C,mon. I can name a lot more. Wheatus, Greenday." I slur over roasted peanuts and stale beer.

We continue to bicker before I feel a hand tugging me and jerking away from Nate and to a quiet corner of the bar. I feel dizzy and stumble forward. I try to make out the person who pulled me away from my seat and of course it's Santana.

"What the hell S? What is wrong with you!" I yell with my hoarse voice.

"What's wrong with me?" she points to herself. "You were supposed to be home hours ago!" she yells back and my head aches with all the yelling.

"You are not my keeper Santana. I can take care of myself." I hiss back in disapproval.

"I texted Rachel that you'd be home soon after the surgery, she wanted me to. Something about your anniversary." she bites back.

"What did you say?" my heart stammers.

"Your girl wanted me to holler at her when we got done so she knows when your ass is getting home."

"No. No, not that?" I question her; maybe I'm questioning myself as well.

"Anniversary, she probably wants some lady kisses or something."Realization hits me hard and it makes me physically recoil with guilt. She gives me a curious look.

"You're anniversary was today. Don't tell me you forgot Q. I would've mentioned it but I thought you were nervous about it today." I step back a few feet and I don't bother to offer any form of explanation as I make my way out of the bar. I just know that I had to get out of there and head home to Rachel. My Rachel, who I have been disappointing repeatedly these past months.

I can sense Santana coming after me as I shuffle my bag, trying to find my keys.

"You are not driving home like that. I'm taking you home." She offers before leading me to her SUV parked just outside the bar.

I feel dread creeping up my bones as we make our way to my home. My chest is filling with trepidation the closer we ride to the apartment. I will myself to calm down but my body won't let me. She finally pulls up to the driveway and I can't get myself to get out of the car. Santana holds my hands with hers. Her actions telling me that she understands the reality of my situation more than she lets on.

"You better make this right Q." Is all she says as I pull my hand from hers and I open her car door.

"I know San. It'll take time but I will." I reply before hopping off and shutting her door. Hoping for the best and preparing for the worst I make my way to the apartment.

**Let me know what you guys think. I'm not sure how I want to write the next chapter.**


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